In The Morning
by CallMeKouhai
Summary: Human!AU - human names used The morning routines of Hetalia families Family-centric, sort of humorous, I guess, if you find this funny... Asia family, Nordic Five, FACE, Germanic, Kievan Rus (and Baltics), and Mediterranean families
1. Chapter 1

**In The Morning**

Asia family (China, Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, Taiwan)

Yao was up with the sun, every morning, without fail. He had to be, really. That was the only way anything could be accomplished.

He stumbled into the shower, mumbling under his breath as _he_ went. The water was cold, and it made him flinch. It woke him up, at least.

"Kiku... has to meet up with Feliciano and Ludwig after school, aru, for their club meeting..."

He organized a schedule of sorts for the day as he washed his hair. With four school-aged siblings, and classes to attend himself, he was always busy.

"Hong... is going to Alfred's house, to work on a project with, uh, the little brother, whatever his name is, aru..."

He finished his shower quickly, drying himself off with an old towel.

"Mei has ballet after school..." He snapped his fingers, having just remembered. "And she's going home with Lili Zwingli to stay the night, aru."

He tied his hair back in a low ponytail, still dripping wet. He didn't have time to dry it, he had to hurry and get dressed.

"Yong-Soo has – what is it today, aru?" He put on his changshan, fastening the clasps. "Is it... football with the Vargas brothers? No, Feliciano is going to the newspaper club meeting, and Lovino won't go unless Feli does, aru. So he's not going with them." Now fully dressed, he left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

"What does Yong-Soo have after school today, aru?"

"He is attending a meeting with his drama troupe, I berieve, onii-chan. In the same comprex where Mei-chan has dance."

Yao hadn't really expected an answer, but it had come anyway, in the voice of his little brother. A sleepy Kiku stood at the kitchen counter, rolling rice balls for their lunches. He was nearly twelve, but still small, and he had to stand on his toes to reach the cabinets where the ingredients were kept.

"That's right! I forgot, aru," Yao said, ruffling Kiku's hair fondly. "What would I do without my Kiku?"

Kiku blushed, pleased with his brother's affection. As a general rule, he didn't like to be touched, but he made an exception for Yao. "I am preased to be of assistance, onii-chan." He could usually keep his accent under control, but it was more pronounced when he was tired. The accent was what came of having Chinese as a first language, then Japanese as his second. He had only really begun to learn English just before he had started school. He wasn't fluent, but he was proficient.

Yao set about making breakfast, letting Kiku finish making bento. The smell of food cooking quickly brought Yong-Soo stumbling into the kitchen.

"I'm sta-a-arving, da-ze!" he proclaimed, his curl bobbing up and down as he dropped himself into a chair. "Breakfast was invented in Korea, you know, so when's it gonna be done?"

"Not for a whire yet, otouto," Kiku told him, closing the lunch boxes. "Onii-chan just started cooking."

"Ehhh?" Yong-Soo whined. He was only eight, and he was impatient. "But I'm hungry now, aniki!"

"You'll have to wait, like everyone else, aru," Yao chastised. "Hong should be finished now, so, Kiku, it's your turn for the shower. This means no baths, di di."

Yong-Soo snickered at the playful teasing. Kiku nodded, mildly embarrassed. He went off quickly, not wanting to waste time.

"And you," Yao continued, "are going to find the coats that you misplaced yesterday, Yong-Soo."

The boy laughed nervously. He might have taken some coats from the closet yesterday when Alfred had come over, and they might have been using some of them as capes, and they might have piled them in a heap on the floor and jumped into the pile – several times. Not that he was admitting anything. Yao didn't really need to know about it, right?

He scampered from the kitchen before Yao could begin along that line of questioning. If he gathered everyone's outerwear and got it ready for when they left, he'd have been helpful, and Yao couldn't get mad at him then!

The next person to wander into the kitchen was Hong. He went straight to the cupboard, rummaging around for tea leaves. "You need to, like, go to the store or something, aniki," he said, pulling out the small package that contained the substance he'd been looking for, "''cause this is all we have left."

"I'll go today, aru," Yao promised, "after I drop everyone off."

Hong seemed placated by this. Ignoring Yao's warning to be careful, he began to make the tea himself. It was slow going, as a nine-year-old boy had some difficulties with the making of tea. His hair was still wet and dripping, his bare feet padding across the linoleum of the kitchen floor.

"Go wake up Mei, please," Yao requested. "Breakfast is almost ready, aru, and she needs to get dressed."

"Yeah, sure," Hong answered, "just don't, like, feed Yong-Soo my breakfast."

Hong disappeared briefly, then returned with Mei in tow. She danced through the kitchen, her pink skirt twirling. "Morning, ge ge!"

"Good morning, Mei-Mei," Yao replied, grinning at her. "How's my favourite little sister today , aru?"

She giggled, beaming up at him. "I'm your only little sister, silly!"

"Whatever," Hong said, dropping into his place at the table. "Can we, like, eat now?"

"NOT WITHOUT ME!" Yong-Soo cried, racing into the kitchen and nearly falling over. "I'm here, so we can eat now, da-ze!"

"What about Kiku-nii?" Mei asked, taking her seat. "Should we wait for him?"

Hong rolled his eyes. "We totally don't have the time to wait, Mei-Mei."

"Kiku's a slow-poke! And slowness did not originate in Korea, da-ze!"

"Show some respect, Yong-Soo. Kiku is your aniki, too." Yao swatted the back of his head lightly, sitting down to his own breakfast. The table was spread with a peculiar mix of traditional breakfast foods – soybean porridge, steamed rice, and broth, warmed over from the night before. Yong-Soo always insisted in having dumplings in his broth, as it was the 'Korean way, da-ze!'

It was difficult, catering to the wants, needs, and traditional tastes of a picky young Korean boy, a stolid Hong Kongan boy who preferred routine, a sweet-toothed Taiwanese girl, and their big brother, a Japanese boy with a fondness for fish and too much salt. Only occasionally would he actually get to cook a meal in accordance to one country's tradition. When he did so, it was more often than not the Chinese cuisine that was from his own culture.

But if they lingered over breakfast, they would be late.

Yao nearly choked, practically inhaling his porridge. " Finish eating, then get your coats and bags, aru! Kiku packed your lunches already!"

He stood up abruptly, setting his own dish aside and grabbing food for Kiku. He nearly tripped over his feet as he struggled to get around Yong-Soo, who has managed to take up the most space possible. He left his youngest siblings at the table, running to deliver breakfast to Kiku.

Kiku was struggling with the clasps of his jacket, his wet hair hanging in his eyes and impeding his vision. He had his bag fully packed and ready, so he hadn't been wasting time. But, much to Yao's annoyance and slight worry, Kiku had a tendency to skip breakfast if he thought that there was no time, even if Yao had told him many times that he had to eat something before going to school.

"Oh, good," Yao said, relived, "you're just about ready. Here, aru." He gave Kiku the bowl – if he'd grabbed the right dish, then it was the steamed rice that he'd set aside for Kiku.

"Arigatou, onii-chan," he said. "Itadakimasu." It was undignified, but when they were in a hurry, Kiku would often bring the bowl to his lips and drink the rice, rather than eat it the way it was intended.

Yao fastened his jacket, adjusting the hem slightly. "There. You'll have to take your breakfast with you, aru. We have to go, or –"

"We're gonna be late!" Yong-Soo shrieked.

Kiku flipped his bangs back, brushing them out of his face. He quickly shouldered his school bag, rushing to the door. Yao was quick to follow him, grabbing Mei's bag from where it had been left, abandoned, by the kitchen table.

"We are going to be late," Hong informed them matter-of-factly as they ran out the front door. "This happens, like, every day."

Yao silently thanked whatever god there might have been for cheap rented minivans as he got his siblings to pile in. "Mei-Mei, you forgot your bag, aru. Here, take it, and get in, there, next to Yong-Soo. Hong, you sit on the left, in front of Yong-Soo. No, Mei-Mei, don't pull Yong-Soo's curl, aru. Kiku, don't spill your rice."

There was a general concession, and the click of seat belts being locked into place. At Yong-Soo's vehement request, Yao had turned on the radio, and the boy was now singing along to some k-pop song. Kiku was nodding along, too, as much as he would deny it. Hong really couldn't care less about the radio, and he spent the car ride gazing out dispassionately at the road signs. He acted more like a teenager than Kiku did. Mei was amusing herself with some of the little drawings Kiku had done for her, a handful of chibi animals drawn on cardstock.

This was how things usually turned out, the little siblings amusing themselves as Yao tried to keep them from being horrifically late. Four little siblings, university courses, and a part-time job meant he had to learn to deal with the chaos. So far, he'd been doing pretty well.

Of course, after all the problems with getting his little siblings to school on time, he had to get to his own classes and face that scary boy who's been leering at him for the past few weeks – Ivan Braginski.

Yao shuddered. He was not looking forward to that at all.

A/N : Reader-senpai!

If you've made it this far, then you've just read my first submission! It's not wonderful, I know, and there is probably OOCness, but I tried. I'm still learning how the site works, so I'll probably upload more of similar quality... I might continue with this, I think.

Hopefully I'll be able to contribute to the fanfiction community.

But if you noticed me, Reader-senpai, I'd be glad of any kind of feedback you can give me!

~Kouhai


	2. Chapter 2

**In The Morning**

Nordic five (Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Norway, Iceland)

In this house, there was nothing quite like a rude awakening, courtesy of Mathias.

"WAKE UP, LUKAS!"

Mathias jumped on top of his little brother, shaking him awake. Lukas sat bolt upright, his forehead slamming against Mathias'.

"Damn it, Mathias…" Lukas muttered, rubbing his now-aching head. "I told you not to do that…"

"But you gotta get up! Get up! The alarm didn't go off!"

Lukas mumbled a curse, which should have gotten his mouth washed out with soap. Berwald, their oldest brother at eighteen and their legal guardian, did not like the filthy words coming from his twelve-year-old brother's mouth. He shoved Mathias aside, scrambling out of bed.

"Has anything been done? Anything at all?" He tripped over the stack of books beside his bed, heading for the dresser.

"Not much, I don't think!" Mathias beamed at him, as if this was something to be proud of. "Emil is still asleep, nobody fed Hanatamago, and big bro can't find his glasses anywhere. Tino's making breakfast, though!"

"Why don't you go do something useful, then, Mathias?"

He pouted a bit at being dismissed by his little brother, but he left, calling something about feeding the dog. Lukas hurriedly pulled on a shirt, doing the buttons up wrong in his haste. This was followed by a change of pants and a pair of mismatched socks – he was pretty sure that they weren't even his. He snatched up his hairpin from his nightstand, taking it in hand as he rushed to his little brother's bedroom. If he tried to put it in now, in a hurry, he'd just end up touching that one curl that made him feel weird. He'd let Emil pin his hair back.

"Lillebror," he called softly, sliding across the hardwood floor on his sock feet. "Lillebror, it's time to wake up." He sat down on the edge of Emil's bed, shaking his shoulder gently.

"Don' wanna…" he whined, shaking off Lukas' hand.

"You have to wake up." Lukas had schooled his features into his typical emotionless expression, but his brows furrowed slightly with frustration as Emil refused to get up. "Fine, then." He wrapped his little brother in his arms – Emil was only six, and fairly small for his age, so Lukas could manage that easily – and picked him up.

Emil squealed and kicked, wanting the warmth of his blankets as his big brother dragged him out of bed. "Are you up now?" Lukas asked.

Emil nodded vigorously. Lukas then released him.

"Can you get ready on your own, or do you want me to help you?

"You help." Emil was stubborn about things like this. Berwald had warned Lukas that this stage of codependency would only last for a while, and that he should enjoy the adoration while it lasted.

With a sigh, Lukas rummaged through Emil's dresser. He shared the room with their big brother, Tino, and Lukas hadn't gotten around to that week's laundry, so it took him a moment to find some suitable clothing – namely, something that didn't belong to their sixteen-year-old brother, and wasn't pajamas.

"Arms up, lillebror." Lukas pulled off Emil's nightshirt, tugging the fresh shirt down over his head. He dressed him in búninger karla, traditional Icelandic wear, as he did every day, methodically but efficiently. Once satisfied, he knelt in front of Emil, offering him his hairpin.

Emil took the pin in his little fingers, holding it carefully. He knew what he was doing, and had done it before. He swept Lukas' hair to the side, and then fastened it in place with the silver pin that bore the shape of the Nordic cross. He liked doing that. It was a pretty pin, shiny and smooth, nearly the same colour as his pale hair. "There, storebror."

Lukas allowed himself a rare smile, ruffling Emil's hair lightly. "Thank you, Emil." He straightened his expression. "Now, to the kitchen. Hopefully there will be food waiting for us."

He stood up and headed for the kitchen, Emil at his heels. Tino was there to greet them, plates of flatbread and jam laid on the table. "Good morning, Luka, Emeh!"

"Good morning, storebror!" Emil was in a more pleasant mood now, and was consenting to the use of his nickname.

"Are we late yet?" Lukas asked, preferring to gather information than to exchange pleasantries with his cheerful brother. He

"Not yet, but soon." Tino pulled out Emil's chair for him, letting the little boy settle in for his breakfast. "Ber only just found his glasses."

"Did Mathias hide them? Of course he did." Lukas shook his head, sliding into his own seat at the table. Mathias was supposed to be his big brother, but sometimes, he sincerely doubted that.

"Where is Mati?" Emil asked, munching on his bread.

"He ate already. He fed Hanatamago for me, and he got dressed earlier, so he's –"

"Fixing his hair," Lukas finished, rolling his eyes. He shoved another bite of food into his mouth, determined to finish his meal quickly. "Is storebror ready to leave?"

"I am." Berwald entered the kitchen, his glasses slightly crooked, his hair yet uncombed. "Are m' little brothers ready t' leave?"

Tino walked up to him and cut him off. "You are not leaving until you have had your breakfast." He poked him in the chest to emphasize his point, gesturing to the food on the table.

"I'll eat on th' way."

"You are not leaving until you eat something."

Huffing, Berwald accepted the plate of food that was pushed at him. He knew they were going to be late if they didn't hurry. Mathias appeared seconds later to reinforce this opinion.

"Come on! Come on, come on!" He was practically bouncing in the doorway, already wearing his coat and boots. "We'll be late! Then Luka will be all snotty for the rest of the day 'cause we upset his schedule!"

Tino's rule of not leaving the house without breakfast was not broken, as both Emil and Berwald still had their plates as they made their way out to the car, Lukas carrying the remainder of his breakfast in his cheeks, like some sort of chipmunk. They had schools to get to – Emil and Lukas attended the same elementary school, while Mathias, a year older than Lukas, a was in junior high. Tino attended classes at the local high school, and Berwald was taking courses at the University. This usually lead to Berwald speeding through traffic to get his little brothers to school on time, and today was no exception.

The car pulled up to the sidewalk, and Lukas quickly undid his seat belt. He took his own bag, then Emil's, getting out of the car and pulling his brother out after him.

"Have a good day at school!" Tino called.

Emil waved, watching their brothers get back onto the road.

"Come on, lillebror," Lukas urged, "or we'll miss the bell."

Reader-senpai!

Here's my second installment! This may not be the direction of continuation you were looking for, but I intend to do morning routines for a few more families before getting to the actual days. If Reader-senpai is liking this fic, I shall continue!

Any kind of validation from you would be wonderful! Constructive criticism is good, too - remember, this is only my second attempt atwriting anything for this. I'll try to keep it going!

~Kouhai


	3. Chapter 3

In The Morning

FACE family (France, America, Canada, England)

Even when there was time to spare, the inhabitants of this house always got up early.

It was quite easy to tell that Matthew had his papa's dislike of early morning. It was much easier to stay in bed – it wasn't like anyone would miss him at school, anyway. But his brother and his boundless reserves of energy meant that he was awake far earlier than he would prefer.

"C'mon, Mattie! Get up!"

Alfred tugged at the sleeve of his pajamas, insistent as ever. He was hopping up and down like a nervous rabbit, all too eager to get his brother out of bed.

Matthew rolled over reluctantly, his eyes bleary with sleep. He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand, and flinched when Alfred threw them at him.

"Qu'est-ce que – I mean, what is it, Al?" he asked, blinking up at his brother.

"You gotta go wake up papa!"

"What? 'ow can you be in distress already…?" Matthew trailed off. He slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose, confused as to why Alfred had come on such a hurry to wake him. "What is the matter? Why do you need papa?"

Alfred fidgeted nervously. "'Cause if you don't wake him," he answered, "then dad will… MAKE BREAKFAST!"

Matthew sank back into his pillow with a groan, laughing internally at Alfred's face of horror. They were twelve. He'd thought that Alfred would have gotten used to their father's bad cooking. The American brother was the only one of the two who could actually stomach it. Matthew usually had to sweet-talk his papa into saving him from the toxic waste that his dad called 'British cuisine'. Papa was French, and papa could cook far better than dad.

"C'mon, Mattie! You're not taking me seriously!" Alfred whined, shaking his brother's arm. "Dad said last night that if he got up first, then he was making breakfast!"

"Why do I 'ave to wake up papa? You know 'e's always in a bad mood when 'e gets woken. I thought you were the 'ero of everything, shouldn't that be your job to face 'im? "

Alfred pouted. "You're talkin' like French again. And I am so a hero," he proclaimed, displaying his everlasting childishness, "and I would wake him, but he likes you better, Mattie, so he won't get as grouchy. 'Sides, I have to go do, uh, hero stuff. Yeah."

Translation : Alfred was going to go get ready for school early to avoid dealing with a grumpy papa Francis. Matthew was the big brother, he was the one to take care of that.

"Stupid 'oser," he muttered, aiming the insult at his brother's retreating back. There was no venom in the words, and he got up to follow Alfred's directions.

Matthew stopped briefly to give his stuffed polar bear a hug. It's name was Kuma… Kuma…. Kuma-something, and he'd had it since he was little. It resided permanently in his bed; he had carried it around everywhere when he was younger.

He left his bedroom, then slowed his pace to a creep. He could hear Alfred rummaging around in his own bedroom, looking for something-or-other, as he passed the closed door. He snuck along the hallway, the stopped at his papa's door, pushing it open with a soft touch.

As he approached the side of the bed, he took a deep breath. He had until his papa had properly woken up to compose himself. It was time to use the look that his friend Kiku had once called 'moe'.

"Papa? Papa, reveille-toi, s'il te plaît."

Wide eyes, an innocent expression, and some sweet-talking in French. That was what got his papa to go along with anything. Alfred did the same thing to their dad, Arthur, but he was nowhere near as good as his big brother.

Francis barely stirred when Matthew put his hand on his shoulder. "Hnnn… Quoi? Matthieu, c'est toi, mon petit?" He pressed his face in to his pillow. "Que veut ton frère? Ne m'énerve pas, c'est trop tôt pour ça…"

"Euh, non, papa… je m'excuse… je voulais simplement que tu fais le petit déjeuner." And here was the selling point – when his papa turned to look at him, he pouted a bit, bringing his shoulders in closer together. His sleep-messy hair, tired eyes, and slightly crooked glasses only added to the effect. He looked like he'd just woken up and had come in to ask for breakfast, which, in all technicality, he had.

Francis sat up in bed, yawning. He looked mollified by Matthew's words, and he reached out to ruffle his songs hair. "Je le fais seulement pour mon petit Matthieu, d'ac? Ne me derange pas."

"Merci beaucoup, papa."

Matthew grinned as he left the room to go get dressed, triumphant in another victory over his papa's lack of will. He was practically attacked in the hallway when Alfred jumped on top of him.

"Did it work?" he demanded, eyes bright.

"It worked, just like you thought it would, eh?" Matthew poked his brother in the ribs. "I'm sorry, Al, but you have got to stop using me as a cuteness incentive every time you want papa to do something."

"Ahahahaha! You're my secret superhero weapon for dealing with papa!"

"And why exactly are you dealing with your papa? He's never awake at this hour."

Alfred stiffened almost comically when he heard that voice. "Oh, dad!"

"I'm going to go get dressed," Matthew excused himself quickly. He did not want to be caught in the message that would be the inevitable result of dad finding out about how far they'd go to avoid his cooking.

He took his time getting dressed, changing from his pajamas into jeans and a t-shirt, pulling a red hoodie over it. He stopped to run a comb through his hair, though he knew he would be unable to do anything about how that one stubborn curl that was suspended from the side of his head. He checked his bag, making sure that everything was in place and that he'd not forgotten something. Then he went to Alfred's room and checked his things – his math homework had been left crumpled up under his pillow.

As far as Matthew could hear, nobody was shouting, so he figured it was safe to come out to the kitchen. An unusually calm scene awaited him.

Alfred was busy, diligently making sandwiches for their lunches at the kitchen counters. Papa Francis sat at the table, nursing a cup of hot black coffee, and Arthur, dad, sat across from him, reading the newspaper and drinking his tea.

"Good morning, you," Arthur greeted him, nodding as he folded up the paper.

"Good morning, dad." Matthew took his seat next to papa, who murmured a greeting into his drink.

Alfred finished with his sandwiches and bounced over. "I'm going to put these in our lunch bags, 'kay, Mattie?" he said, beaming.

"Thanks, Al. That's great.

"Breakfast is ready," their dad announced, "so you'd best be quick about it."

Alfred was off like a shot, gone before Arthur could even make it to the stove to serve the finished meal. Francis had made French toast, which always made dad laugh – he liked to joke that even after leaving Paris, papa had remained so steadfastly French that he couldn't even make toast like everyone else. Alfred didn't get it. Matthew thought it was funny.

He accepted his plate gratefully and began to eat. He was halfway through a piece of toast when Arthur asked him, "Have you been making cute faces at Francis to force him to do your bidding again?"

Matthew nearly choked. The newly returned Alfred nearly did, too.

"Peut être un peu," he mumbled, not meeting his father's eyes.

Arthur just laughed. " That's good, I suppose. You learned to manipulate him bloody early, and you just keep getting better at it."

"I am not being manipulated, cher, " Francis insisted.

"I think you are, frog. Your dear little Matthew convinced you to get up, didn't he?"

This kind of bickering was common at their house. A silent table was an impossibility. Matthew just sat and listened, letting Alfred interject, as dad and papa had their little spat over his ability to control people. It was amusing, listening to them talk.

However, it was not interesting enough to make him miss the bus. He grabbed Alfred by the arm and they ran to gather their things, waving hurried goodbyes and au revoirs, before dashing to meet the bus.

French translations

(Do correct me if you see an error - I do know French, but my American autocorrect hates my French spelling)

Qu'est-ce - what is

Papa? Papa, reveille-toi, s'il te plaît - Papa? Papa, wake up, please

Hnnn... Quoi? Matthieu, c'est toi, mon petit? - Hnnn... What? Matthew, is that you, my little one?

Que veut ton frère? Ne m'énerve pas, c'est trop tôt pour ça... - What does your brother want? Don't annoy me, it's too early for that...

Euh, non, papa... Je m'excuse... je voulais simplement que tu fais le petit déjeuner... - Um, no, papa...I'm sorry... I just wanted you to make breakfast

Je le fais seulement pour mon petit Matthieu, d'ac? - I do it only for my little Matthew, OK? (D'ac being slang for d'accord- of accord, okay)

Ne me dérange pas - don't bother me

Merci beaucoup, papa - thank you very much, papa

Peut être un peu - maybe a little

Cher - dear, literally meaning expensive or precious

Reader-senpai!

I have ever made another contribution to this awful collection of writing that I call a story! ^J^

I just realized I have a follower and two favourites, in addition to my three reviews - it means a lot to me that you took the time to read my work and that you enjoyed it! So, thank you!

I hope you enjoyed this at least a little bit! I greatly appreciate any feedback you can give me!

~ Kouhai


	4. Chapter 4

In The Morning

Germanic family (Prussia, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Kugelmugel)

Some families were more efficient than others. This particular house was not one of them.

"Bruder... großer Bruder..." Ludwig rapped on the door of his big brother's bedroom. "Bruder Gil, you need to get up!"

His calling earned him a swat on the back of his head as his cousin, Vash, passed him in the hallway, chastising as he went, "Keep it down, Lutz, you'll wake Lili."

Vash was his fourteen-year-old cousin, the neutral party in a combative family. He may have been only in grade eight, but he was not afraid of talking down anyone – whether it was tiny Leopold, who had not even seen his third birthday yet, or his mother, Elizaveta, who was twenty-seven years old, and a holy terror with that skillet of hers. Even the 'head' of the household, the young Master Roderich Edelstein, was no match for Vash's tongue-lashing.

"Sorry, Vash," Ludwig mumbled, "but I've been standing out here for five minutes and Bruder isn't up yet."

Vash's expression hardened. He had no patience for the laziness of Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"Gilbert," he growled, slamming his fist into the door, "get up, now, or I'll bake your bird in a pie. Die jungen Herr Roderich will help, and so will die jungen Herrin Elizaveta."

"JOU ARE GETTING NOVHERE NEAR MEIN GILBIRD!" Gilbert shouted, tripping over his feet as he raced to fling his door open. "See? I vas doing something productive! I got dressed, and –"

He was ignored by his Swiss cousin, who fled to the side of his four-year-old little sister, who was getting upset about the shouting. Lili was in the kitchen, helping her 'mother', cousin Elizaveta, make breakfast. Elizaveta glared at Gilbert as he and his little brother followed Vash, balancing her crying son on her hip, and wielding a skillet one-handed.

"You great brute!" she scolded. "Your shouting is scaring Leopold! You'd think that with a younger brother and two younger cousins, you'd know how to act around children by the time you're eighteen!"

Leopold whimpered in agreement, his little blond braids swaying with the motion of his mother walking.

"Ja, Ja, whatever," Gilbert answered, rolling his eyes. He ruffled his brother's hair fondly. "Jou don't think zhat zhe awesome me is a problem, do jou, Lutz?"

Ludwig remained silent. Gilbert, being Gilbert, was wilfully ignorant of certain things, like the fact that he certainly was a problem to some people, that his accent was a lot thicker than it needed to be - if he'd just put a little effort into smoothing it out – or the fact that the fondness most people held for him was tinged with irritation and dislike.

Roderich sat at the head of the table, giving the newspaper a cursory glance, before examining his family. His glasses slid down his nose as he looked at them each in turn, evaluating them. Then came his customary speech.

"Gilbert, you ought to be taking on more responsibility. Study, help your brother. Don't waste your nights running around with Antonio and that older man, Francis, they're bad influences on you. Have you combed your hair this morning? I don't think so. Have some self-respect. You have a family to represent. No, you aren't skipping breakfast, sit down and eat. Make sure to thank Elizaveta, too."

He paused briefly, letting Gilbert settle in half-heartedly. As usual, Gilbird was perched in his thick white hair. He took Leopold from his wife, letting her get back to making lunches, before continuing on with his next victim.

"Vash Zwingli, where were you last night? Lili was waiting for you to come home, but you were late. You missed dinner. You're normally good at following schedule, what happened? You need to order Lili her lunch for next week, too. Do you realize that you are wearing your shirt inside out? Yes, fix it. Now. Sit down and eat, and don't give your sister your entire breakfast, fool boy."

Vash blushed, muttering under his breath as he tried to block out Gilbert's mocking laugh. "I had to stay late after a club meeting, alright? Gil picked up Lutz, and that Italian kid got a ride home, but Honda's brother had a test, and couldn't leave class early to pick him up. And when I'm overseer for a club meeting, I'm not allowed to leave until all members have left the meeting, so I had to stick around and wait for Yao Wang to show up."

"It's Wang Yao," Ludwig corrected, being ignored by his cousin. "Kiku's big brother."

"All right, then," Roderich acquiesced. "I will have to allow this. But let someone know when you have to stay late." He looked down at Vash, his violet eyes reflective and calm. Vash nodded, which cued Roderich to continue his rant.

"And you – Ludwig Beilschmidt. I received a call from one of your teachers. You scared another child to the point of tears!"

"Feliciano cries at everything, though, Onkel Roderich."

"Fair enough. The child attends my music lessons, and cries every time he plays a passage wrong. But your grades are another matter. Your English mark has dropped significantly, Lutz. Are you having troubles? Your Bruder is fully capable of helping you, as thick as he may be. Yes, eat, don't just stand there. You'll ride with Gilbert today, so don't let him drive that bike of his into a car. While I'm on that topic, Vash, you'll be the one walking Lili to daycare, so, you'd best move quickly if you don't want to be late for school afterward."

He took another brief pause, bouncing a fussy Leopold on his knees.

"And you, kleine Fräulein, you have to stop manipulating your großer Bruder with cute faces every time you don't want to do something. It's not Vash's job to pick up your dolls, Lili. I swear, someday, I will find out that he has you stowed away in his backpack or some such nonsense."

Finally finished, he adjusted his glasses, turning his attention to his little boy. With lunches packed and the two-year-old in his high chair, the entire patchwork of a family was seated at the table. Gilbert, pale and striking, with his red-violet eyes lined with shadows, a thinness to his face, courtesy of his general poor health. Sitting next to him was his little brother, Ludwig, who still had a bit of baby fat in his cheeks, clear blue eyes and fine blond hair, like a little German angel beside a Prussian demon. Vash, looking very distinctive, and his little sister looking like a copy of him, only smaller and beribboned, seated across from their cousins.. His lovely wife, Elizaveta, looked just as elegant and beautiful as she ever did, helping Leopold with his breakfast.

To nobody's surprise, Gilbert finished first. He had to wait for Ludwig, so he stood aside as Vash bundled Lili into her coat to begin the walk. He watched as Elizaveta got up to clean the dishes, Roderich playing with baby Leopold. He was practically jumping up and down. He loved any chance he got to take his bike out for a spin.

He waited impatiently, jingling his motorcycle keys impatiently. "C'mon, kleiner Bruder! It's time for zhe awesome Gilbert to take you to school!"

The little bird perched on his head chirped in agreement.

Translation

Bruder... großer Bruder... – brother... big brother...

Die jungen Herr Roderich – the young master Roderich

Die jungen Herrin Elizaveta – the young mistress Elizaveta

Mein – my

Ja – yes

Onkel – uncle

Kleine Fraulein – little miss

Do note that while I speak French, I do not speak German, therefore all errors belong to Google translate ^J^

Reader-senpai!

I really should post these at a time that is not almost two in the morning. Oh well. I tried. Hopefully it turned out alright! There is so much out-of-character stuff, but I made the effort, and it's the thought that counts, right? (I just love Switzy and Big Brother Gil)

Well, for next week, I'm going to try for something with the Italians! Hopefully I'll not totally butcher it! I've got exams, though, and it won't be great. My darling Romano will most likely be prominent.

Any form of acknowledgement is wonderful. Reviews would make me very, very happy.

~Kouhai


	5. Chapter 5

In The Morning

Kievan Rus family + Baltics (Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia)

Not all mornings began pleasantly.

For instance, Ivan Braginsky woke up to see his little sister watching him sleep.

"Good morning, brat moy," she murmured, her wide eyes fixed on him intently.

Ivan bit back a scream. "N-Nata!"

She'd been obsessing over him for the better part of her sixteen years, and he still hadn't gotten used to the staring and lurking. It probably wasn't normal for the thoughts of a sixteen-year-old girl to be ruled by her elder brother, but nobody under this roof was entirely well-adjusted.

"Did you sleep well, brat moy?"

Ivan nodded hurriedly. Anything to get her to back off. She scared him. He didn't like the light in her eyes - it reminded him of a knife blade.

Natalya smiled slightly. "I am pleased to hear this. Sestra bolshaya is making breakfast, and I will make lunch for you, brat moy. You have nothing to be concerned about this morning. Do you want me to take care of your… little pets?"

"I will do that myself, da." Ivan swallowed harshly, trying to believe that his sister didn't scare him. "Thank you, sestra mladshaya." He smiled at her, the mildly creepy smile that said 'little pets' were terrified of, the one that made Yao-Yao cringe and back away, if only it could have the same effect on Natalya.

She got up off the edge of his bed, her skirt swirling around her legs. "I will see you at breakfast, then, brat moy ~ "

Ivan exhaled with relief when the door swung shut. His elder sister, Yekaterina, or Katyusha, was much more manageable than Natalya. He always felt thankful when he remembered that she was his half-sister only – she even had a different name : Arlovskaya, instead of Katyusha's name, Braginskaya. He was very grateful that she did not bear the feminine variation of his patronym. Then she would be even more fixated on him. It was bad enough that she was jealous of Katyusha.

With care coaxed from his broad fingers, Ivan removed his nightshirt and did up his buttons. Katyusha had taught him and Natalya that it was important to look one's best, so he did his part. Button-down shirts and slacks, admittedly hidden beneath his long coat and tucked into his boots, respectively. He wound his scarf around his neck immediately after. His big sister had given it to him when he had been younger, when they were still living in Russia. He felt bare without it.

Now it was time to leave the relative sanctuary of his room to take care of his 'little pets'.

Unlike most eighteen-year-olds, Ivan did not keep a dog or a cat or a small animal like a hamster. He kept his young cousins. He called them his Baltics, as they each came from a different Baltic state. Eduard von Bock, the Estonian, was the eldest at only eight. The middle child was his favourite, seven-year-old Toris Laurinaitis, his little Lithuanian. The youngest was Raivis Galante, a Latvian child of not quite six. Technically, they were to be part of the family, but practically, they were like pets to Ivan, who was their primary caregiver. Katyusha had enough trouble trying to support her own siblings, she didn't need three more to babysit.

He quite liked the young boys, though he had been told that he showed his affection in an 'unusual' way.

The small two-bedroom apartment that they shared allowed little to no privacy. Katyusha slept on a cot in the living room, while Natalya - he shuddered to even think about it – slept at the foot of the bed, which his sisters had insisted that he take. The Baltics shared the second bedroom. As he went to invade the Baltics' bedroom, he could hear Natalya humming as she went about the cramped kitchen, the snatches of song accompanied by his elder sister's… bouncing.

Like Ukraine, her homeland, Katyusha possessed 'large tracts of land'. She couldn't help but bounce everywhere she went, her oversized chest giving off the distinctive 'boing' sound as she moved. Several of Ivan's classmates at university had made comments about his sister. He didn't appreciate it, and neither did she. It was something that was not discussed, as much as people stared.

"Dobroye utro!" Ivan called, flinging the bedroom door open. The young Baltics scrambled to their feet.

"Mr. Russia!" They all snapped to something resembling attention. Ivan grinned at the nickname. Country nicknames were a facet in his household due to the wide variety of birthplace- Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia.

"You are getting ready for school, da? Miss Ukraine is making breakfast for you now. You must not let it go cold…!"

Little Raivis squeaked in dismay. "Can we eat first, then?"

Eduard elbowed him in the ribs. "Latvia! You know the rule!"

"Not food until you're ready," Toris finished. "And you don't want to upset Mr. Russia, do you?"

"Mr. Russia is the one who makes sure I have food," Raivis said. "If I upset him, does that mean I don't get food?"

"Maybe…" Ivan grinned. "Kolkolkol! Don't worry, Raivis, I will feed you as long as you are good, da?"

"Vanya," Katyusha called, "don't threaten the children!" This was accompanied by another boing.

"W-what are we having for breakfast, Miss Braginskaya?" Toris asked shyly.

"Butterbrots and fried eggs," came the answer, followed by some muttering from Natalya.

And that was his cue. Now that the elementary school aged children were up and about, his job was to get out before Natalya could force him into staying for breakfast. It worked out alright if he left. Natalya walked the Baltics to school, or in Raivis' case, kindergarten, before continuing on to her own school. Katyusha took the car to work. Ivan made a break for freedom, taking some breakfast and running for the door. He rode a bicycle to university. It beat having to stay and be stared at by his little sister.

By the time Katyusha began to protest this abrupt departure, Ivan was waving goodbye, halfway out the door, his textbooks already waiting in the basket of his bike. He loved getting out of the tiny apartment and getting to class. The others were there, too, people like Yao-Yao, the boy that he had been investigating recently – he looked like he would be a good friend.

Perhaps today would be the day that Ivan befriended him.

Translation

Brat moy – my brother/brother of mine

Sestra bolshaya – big sister

Sestra mladshaya – little sister

Dobroye utro – good morning

I don't speak Russian, so if there are corrections to be made, tell me, but blame the translator. ^J^

Reader-senpai!

I know this one is kind of bad, but I tried. I felt obliged to put up something. I don't know how to work this family properly, and I'm in the middle of planning out a larger AU, so it's not going to be my best work by any means. I am sorry.

But my exams are done, I have my band concert tomorrow, and I have a few projects to hand in during the coming week, so with that aside, hopefully the next update will be better.

Read and review, please, any kind of criticism is accepted. I'd love to get any sort of feedback from you, senpai!

~Kouhai


	6. Chapter 6

In The Morning

Mediterranean Family (Ancient Rome, Italia Romano/South Italy, Italia Veneziano/North Italy, Spain, Greece, Turkey)

Just a note in advance – Spamano makes an appearance. Maybe a few low-key hints of what could be interpreted as Turkey X Greece. Also, some minimal swearing, because you can't have Lovino without at least a tiny bit of his cursing.

Some houses were a little less organized than others.

At the Vargas family house, things were almost always a bit of a mess. Today, the mess started with Lovino trying to shove his sleepy idiot of a boyfriend out of his bedroom window.

"Come on, Antonio! Dammit, you've got to get out before the others wake up!"

"Aw, mi Lovinito…" Antonio whined, "but I want to stay with you! I don't get to spend enough time with you, and you always make me leave!"

"Che cazzo - " Lovino head-butted him in the stomach, glaring at the Spanish boy sitting on – nearly falling off of - his windowsill. "I don't have time for your separation anxiety, you jerk! It's bad enough that I let you sneak in! Chigi!"

As was his specialty, Lovino could pack a lot of anger into a few sentences spoken in a harsh whisper. He gave Antonio another push, and this time, he fell out of the window.

"There! Finally!" He stuck his head through the window frame, leveling his darkest scowl at Antonio. This was followed by a rude gesture. "Stay away this time, you stupid jerk!"

"I'll see you at school, mi Lovinito ~ " Antonio called. He blew his boyfriend a kiss, then sauntered off, grinning to himself. He could hear Lovino's flustered cursing, and he could practically see the blush that he knew would be blazing on his Lovi's cheeks.

Another head was poked out of a window – Sadiq Adnan, his nineteen-year-old next door neighbor. "Oi, Vargas, keep it down when you kick your boyfriend out of the house."

Lovino bit his lip. He lived in a duplex, with his grandfather and little brother, with the occasional visit from Antonio, and next door were two argumentative young men who weren't find of much, least of all each other. If Sadiq had overheard him, then there was a good chance that Nonno Augustus or Feliciano might have heard them, too.

"If he wasn't an idiot, I wouldn't have to throw him out the window," Lovino huffed.

"Che, please, you're fifteen and he's your best friend. You don't know what an idiot is until, you have to put up with someone like Heracles for years on end. Him and his thirty-seven cats." The Turkish boy swung the window closed, and Lovino was alone once more.

Not for long, however. He'd just managed to get Antonio out on time, because there was the alarm.

Not five minutes later, his twelve-year-old little brother, Feliciano, came stumbling into his room. "Buono mattina, fratellone," he greeted, yawning.

"Buono mattina, Feli," Lovino answered. "What do you want me to do this morning?"

Feliciano played with a strand of his auburn hair, his jaw cracking as he yawned. "Nonno went out with his friend again last night, fratellone, so he's not getting out of bed, ve ~. Are you going to make the pasta for lunch?"

"Y-yeah, I guess," he mumbled. Stupid Nonno, going out and getting drunk. Lovino didn't want to do all of the work. This meant he'd have to leave early to walk Feliciano to school – he'd get lost if someone didn't take him. "I'll make the pasta. But I'm going to take a shower first, so you'll have to wait, you little jerk. D'you have anything after school today that I need to know about?"

"Ve ~ I have to meet with Kiku and Ludwig ("The little potato bastard," Lovino muttered) after school today, for the newspaper club. But, fratellone, when I was having lunch with Kiku yesterday, he said that his friend Matthew's papa, the French man that you hate, tutors Antonio after school, and that he said that Toni wanted to surprise you with a visit tonight, and I want pasta now, and I forgot why I started talking about this…" His face brightened. "Ne, ne, Lovi, does this mean that Antonio is taking you out for pasta again? Is it another one of your 'not-a-dates'?"

Lovino's face was bright red. Feliciano was just so open about the whole thing. Maybe Lovino didn't want to go out with Antonio, maybe he didn't want all the fuss – maybe he would have to get better at lying to himself and his fratellino.

"S-shut up, you damn jerk!" he snapped, glaring. "Mind your own business, and go get ready for school!"

He stormed out of the bedroom, trying to pretend that his face wasn't on fire. A cold shower would calm him down a bit.

As he had hoped, the cold water was soothing to him, cooling his temper and his blush. Lovino closed his eyes, letting the spray wash over his face, then immediately regretted that decision, dropping the shower head when he heard Feliciano cry out.

"Uwaaaaa! Fratellone, fratellone, I knocked over the books in the hallway!"

Lovino sighed. Nonno had a precariously towering pile of books stacked in the hallway, and Feliciano knocked them over every two or three days. "Watch where you're going, dammit! And you'd better not leave that mess for me to clean up, you damn jerk!"

He quickly shampooed his hair and rinsed it out, his hair and skin still dripping wet as he emerged from the bathroom. He quickly slid into a pair of pants and a button-down shirt, throwing a vest over it as he fumbled for his comb. With hair as thick as his, it took a considerable effort to rake the comb through it. He parted his hair to the side, his one errant 'Italy curl' bobbing up and down. Feliciano had the same errant strand of hair, though his curled to the opposite side. Socks were put on, and shoes were briefly looked for, before he remembered he'd left them in the entryway the day before.

Lovino sidled along the hallway, skirting around Feliciano's newly upended pile of books. As soon as he set foot in the kitchen, he began to go through the familiar motions associated with making pasta. Feliciano was already at the table, backpack at his feet, chewing on a tomato as he looked over his math homework. Lovino mimicked this, stealing a tomato from the produce bowl, and pointing out a mistake on his little brother's math sheet before returning to his pasta.

"There," he declared, spooning the freshly cooked pasta into a container. "That is your lunch, fratellino. Don't waste it, you jerk."

"Grazie ~ " Feliciano thanked him, packing his books into his bag once more.

Leaning back against the counter, Lovino grabbed another tomato. "If you want an actual breakfast, you're on your own. I don't feel like making anything, dammit. But if you want me to walk with you, we need to leave soon."

"Sì , fratellone!" Feliciano bounced out of his chair, a bright smile on his face. "Let me say goodbye to Nonno, then we leave!"

As they walked down the driveway, Lovino was surprised to see Nonno Augustus in the upstairs window, waving to them. Usually after his nights out, he didn't get out of bed until noon. They were about to start down the street, when a soft voice called them.

"Lovino, Feliciano, would you like a drive?"

Nineteen-year-old Heracles Karpusi, Sadiq's Greek rival and roommate, stood on the step, a cat perched on his shoulder, waving to them. Sadiq, already in the car, honked the horn.

Feliciano looked up to his big brother. "Ve ~ Fratellone, do we ride with them?"

Lovino almost said no – they didn't need help getting to school – before settling on yes. "I'll get us to school faster, so we might as well."

"Ve ~ Ve ~ We get to ride with the kitties!"

Feliciano ran up eagerly, Lovino following at a more sedate pace. They slid into the back seat, where three cats were already laying. Heracles inserted himself into the front seat, and turned the radio on. Almost as soon as the car left the driveway, he had begun to bicker with Sadiq.

In the back seat, the Vargas brothers were basically silent, until Feliciano decided he had something to say.

"Ne, fratellone, are you in a hurry to get to school to see Antonio? Do you miss him when he doesn't sneak over at night?"

If Lovino had had anything in his mouth , he would have spat it out. "Che cazzo – what the hell gave you that idea?! I don't – We don't – I mean –" he stuttered, he face bright red with anger and embarrassment. "CHIGI!"

Translation

Mi Lovinito – basically, my little Lovino (Spanish)

Che cazzo – what the hell, or something a bit stronger

Nonno – grandfather

Buono mattina – good morning

Fratellone – big brother

Fratellino – little brother

Grazie – thank you

Sì – yes

I only speak rudimentary Italian – blame the translator ^J^

Reader-senpai!

Well, I think that that is all the families I'm going to do – next I'll have to write the rest of the days. Hopefully my trash writing doesn't offend/upset/contradict anyone and their opinions. But this is fanfiction – I do not own Hetalia, as is evident – so you'll have to endure my poor writing style if you want to read this. For a first effort, it wasn't actually as terrible as I feel it is, right?

Much appreciation to any and all who read, reviewed, and/or favourited this story

Grazie/Danke schön/Arigato gozaimasu

Thank you! ^J^

~Kouhai


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